


The Threshold of the Year to Come

by wickedthoughts



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Erections, Everyone Is Alive, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Happy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Wanda/Vision, Mutual Pining, Nebula Kills Thanos, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Endgame, Steve Rogers Feels, This is the ending I want that I know I'm not getting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedthoughts/pseuds/wickedthoughts
Summary: Steve knows hope is dangerous, but since when was he afraid of a little danger?





	The Threshold of the Year to Come

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had a mental health scare, yay. Coming down from that, and seeing all the depressing Endgame trailers, I've decided that I want a happy ending for everyone and thus banged this short story out. Not proofread very well, sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Title from Alfred Tennyson's _The Foresters: Robin Hood and Maid Marian_ , Act 1, Scene 3.

* * *

Steve watched as the particles of the people he loved reassembled in the places they’d originally disappeared.

Wanda swirled back into existence, red and sad. He hugged her gently, knowing she’d be happier when Shuri showed her how she’d saved Vision’s consciousness and was making him a new body in her lab. Sam came back, struggling under the weight of his wings. Steve helped him to his feet and hugged him tightly. Sam returned the hug silently, and Steve knew Sam must be disturbed if even he was at a loss for words. They’d talk about it later. It would be good for them both. He let go of Sam to let Natasha and Wanda make their reunions with him.

In his periphery, Steve saw T’Challa reappear to the delight of Shuri, Queen Ramonda, and Okoye. He saw the alien tree person- _Groot-_ being fawned over by Rocket. He smiled softly at the joy swelling around him and focused on the place where he’d watched the person he loved most fade from his life for the second time.

When Bucky’s particles began to reassemble, Steve let out the breath he’d been holding a little too long. Hope was a dangerous thing, and he’d been afraid that, for whatever reason, Bucky wouldn’t be coming back to him this time. He couldn’t be that lucky twice. Any remaining luck he might have had had already been used to defeat Thanos.

To undo what Thanos had done, Steve had expected to give his life. He knew Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, Clint, Rhodey, Scott, Okoye, Carol, Valkyrie, Pepper, Rocket, and Nebula had expected the same. But they’d all been wrong. They’d all lived to see Thanos incapacitated by their teamwork and struck his killing blow by Nebula, the stolen daughter he’d horrifically abused her entire life. Thanos’ death had broken his will’s hold on the Infinity Stones and undone the annihilation he’d performed with them.

Tony, Rhodey, Pepper, and Nebula had gone to Titan to be there when the newly restored Peter Parker, Dr. Strange, and Guardians returned from non-existence. Clint, Scott, and Carol had gone to their respective homes to reunite with their families. Thor, Bruce, and Valkyrie had gone to find the remains of the Asgardian refugees. And Steve, Natasha, Okoye, and Rocket had returned to Wakanda.

The swirling dust became recognizable. The shape of Bucky’s legs inside his brown fatigues, the blue of his jacket stretched over his broad chest, and the black-and-gold vibranium arm that Shuri had made to replace the silver, red-starred Hydra arm. Brown hair cascaded to Bucky’s shoulders, and the bearded face Steve had so painfully missed scrunched into a familiar look of confusion. Steve didn’t realize that his feet had been moving until he was scant inches in front of Bucky. He felt as if he was watching himself from outside his body, much like Bucky had described his memories of his Winter Soldier days to Steve during their brief respites in the Wakandan sun before Thanos had come. He could feel his actions, but he couldn’t control his arms rising to embrace Bucky. He couldn’t control his face pressing itself to Bucky’s. He couldn’t control his lips finding Bucky’s and tasting them like the antidote to the poison inside him.

For so long he’d been afraid to try this with Bucky. Because it was wrong, unnatural, illegal when he’d first had the urge at sixteen. Because Bucky had been through so much, too much, to even consider broaching the feeling after they’d woken up in the future and found each other again.

Steve was back in his body. Bucky tasted fresh from battle, dirt and sweat in his beard. Steve’s cheeks flushed and he tried to back away, to apologize, but Bucky’s arms were around his back, holding him in place, and Steve had no desire to fight his way out of that place that felt like heaven. Bucky’s lips parted and a quiet moan slipped inside Steve’s mouth. Steve swallowed it down and let out one of his own. Their tongues met. The hardening pleasure between their legs pushed against each other, seeking friction and release.

Bucky pulled his mouth away first to take a shuddering breath. There was light-headed bliss roaring in Steve’s ears. He thought it might explode when he saw Bucky smile, wide and giddy.

“Guess you missed me, huh?”

Tears spilled from Steve’s eyes, blurring Bucky’s beautiful face. Steve gulped.

“M-maybe a little.”

Bucky laughed softly. His gloved right hand moved to cup Steve’s cheek.

“You finally shaved.”

Steve's laughter rose hysterically, his tears forced from his eyes until they were dry. He brought his left hand to Bucky’s right and pressed it harder against his face.

“I love you,” he gasped as his laughter died. “I’ve loved you for eighty-five years, and I thought I’d never get to tell you.”

Bucky’s face soured.

“You were gonna die for me, weren’t you?”

“Not just for you- ” Steve began, blood rising with passion and embarrassment.

“Good thing you didn’t,” Bucky’s glower wavered. “‘Cause I would never have forgiven you for being _that_ stupid.”

His metal hand gripped Steve’s waist tighter. His sharp words sent their love glowing in Steve’s chest.

“I love you, too,” Bucky continued, his smile returning. Steve caught a glimpse of the boy he’d known before he’d been sent to the slaughter. “I shoulda told you, back then.”

The glow in Steve’s heart spilled over. It danced up his spine.

“We get another chance.”

Steve’s voice was full of wonder and dangerous hope. Nothing was ever free. Nothing was ever easy.

“Let’s not blow it this time.”

Bucky admonished himself and Steve, one eyebrow raised. Steve shook his head. No. No, they wouldn’t. Not this time. Bucky leaned forward to kiss Steve. Steve parted his lips and closed his eyes, letting himself go to the hope he’d denied himself for eighty-five years.


End file.
